


The Hanging Tree

by LittleRedWolfe (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Harry Potter, Blood Drinking, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Lord Harry Potter, Do-Over, Fix-It of Sorts, Goblet of Fire AU, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Human Sacrifice, Immortal Harry Potter, Independent Harry Potter, Intelligent Harry Potter, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, Powerful Harry Potter, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Prankster Harry Potter, Sacrificial Rituals and Spells, Second Chances, Second Time, Tattooed Harry Potter, The Dursleys Die, Time Travel, Triwizard Tournament, Vampire Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LittleRedWolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were given a year after Voldemort's death before the Witch Hunts began. At 29, Harry is all that's left of the magical world, and one of the last handful of survivors. When he is killed, Death gives him the option to either pass on or go back in time and relive his life from that point, because being Master of Death means he has a choice. Harry accepts and is dropped off on his fourteenth birthday, ready to cause chaos and save the magical world from itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hanging Tree

**The Hanging Tree By BitchKing**

Chapter One

 

* * *

* * *

**Death's Realm 2009**

Harry Potter blinks as the world of white focuses in. He's been here before, about twelve years ago when he died the first time, so it doesn't take long to remember how to work the magic of the afterlife. Harry looks around and his eyes catch sight of a gaunt androgynous person with pale skin stretched tight over its bones, tattered black robes covering its skin, with long grimy locks of black to match its sunken in eyes. Harry doesn't need to ask to know who this being is, but a confirmation would be nice.

"Death." he says, still and unquestioning in his tone.

The great being nods. "Master." Death's voice is neither masculine or feminine, more like the rasp of the wind through leaves in autumn, but it still sends shivers down Harry's spine.

"I suppose you'd like the hallows back." Again it isn't a question, and the three objects he hasn't seen in years all pop into his arms, the folded cloak acting as a pillow of sorts for the wand and stone. He offers them to the skeletal being, and Death comes closer, running its boney fingers across the hallows with a blissful sort of look.

"I want to take them more than anything, but sadly they are no longer mine to have." Death sighs.

"Then who do they belong to?" Harry asks.

"They belong to you, Master Potter. You are the Master of Death, for all that you do not wish to be, which means you get a choice." Death tells him. "You may continue to the afterlife, where you'll become my apprentice. We will move on to another realm where there is life to take when the last few are dead from this one, and when you are ready you will take over the title of Death, and I shall fade into nothingness. Or you can choose to keep the title bestowed upon you, and you may return to your previous life at any point you wish, given the chance to redo anything. You will be immortal, I'll turn you into a vampire of sorts while you're in the living realm to explain your immortality, but you will not age past where you are when you are placed in the living realm again."

"So if I asked to be returned to the night of my parent's deaths I would be fifteen months old forever." Harry is once again not asking a question.

"Unfortunately." Death bobs it's head. "However, there are quite a few spells involving sacrificial blood magic to allow you to age a little bit, but it will only age you up by two years, and you can only do it once. It requires seven sacrifices. When I send you back I will heal your body to perfect health, so that will at least help a bit. The horcrux in your scar will also be removed and added back to Voldemort's current form at that time, so you won't have to waste your magic to block it like you did before your first death."

Harry nods, contemplating his choices. "Say I ask to return to any time before my seventeenth birthday, will I still have the trace?"

Death shakes it's head. "No, because mentally and magically you are still the age you are now, so even if you were a baby you wouldn't have a trace. Any other spells that were cast upon you will unfortunately be cancelled, so your mother's blood sacrifice will no longer work to protect you. On the plus side, any of the spells you were not able to get rid of because of the Witch Hunts will also be gone, so you won't have any magical blockers from those pathetic Hunters or any of Dumbledore's trackers any more."

"Well my fourth year was the biggest turning point in my life, so if you send me back to my fourteenth birthday I can do the aging ritual on Lughnasadh the next day and still have twenty four days to get ready for the Weasleys to come get me for the International Quidditch Tournament. I haven't aged since I died the first time a couple months before I turned eighteen anyways. What's a little under two years less in the long run." Harry muses. "Anything I should know before I leave?"

"You will have to match your Death Toll of this life in your second chance life. In this life you killed 4,864,321 people." Death tells him matter-of-factly. Harry's eyebrows raise into his hairline. "The majority of those were from your bombings. You can kill anyone you want, be they magical or not. Creature or not. Guilty or innocent. Well you get the picture. I'll give you a few boons to make it interesting. Kill ten people who speak the same language you can gain the ability to speak it, kill ten scientists and you'll understand all sciences. You'll gain most knowledge easily, it's only collegiate or mastery levels that you'll need to kill ten for. If you kill some of the other vampires, I'll let you have a vampire gift for every five. I absolutely hate the assholes. You'll have to drink blood, mostly to keep up appearances, but if you kill someone by drinking their blood I'll lessen the number needed to be killed in half so long as the others are also drained. Unless it's another vampire and then every one of those assholes you drain to death I'll give you all their gifts and knowledge without question."

"That sounds pretty useful." Harry nods. "Do the seven I'm using in my rituals count to the Death Quota?"

"They do." Death smirks. "I'll also give you a second animagus form, because I'm awesome and I like you. I know you are currently a stag like your father, but I do apologize because it will change because of your new death magic. It won't be a huge horrible change, but your Stag will be black with antlers as pale as bone. You're other form will also be black, no matter what it is, and I am sorry about that."

Harry shrugs. "That sounds actually cool. I didn't really like being an albino stag anyways. It isn't very easy to hide when your fur practically glows in the dark."

Death laughs, a whispery sort of sound that reminds Harry of bones being crushed. "I would also like you to get rid of Tom Riddle's annoying anchors." it informs him. "I don't care if you decide to use your death magic to put them back inside him, or if you viciously destroy him before he can be given a chance to rise back to power, but I want them gone. If you actually want him to be your immortal companion, because I know that you were a bit infatuated with him in your last life, you have to give him your heart, and I do mean that literally. You would have to rip out your heart and put it in his chest, which would make it to where neither of you can be killed. Your heart will not beat anymore, because you are technically dead, so I'm sorry about that. Granted this will also be explained by your apparent vampirism, which by the way you have to drink the blood of your sire so you don't loose yourself to the blood-lust, so feel free to kill whoever I enchant to come bite you."

"Any vampire myths I need to worry about?" It's more of a joke than an actual question, but it does still stand.

"You can't eat meat." Death says. "You'll have to be a bit like a vegetarian who drinks blood, because meat will make you sick. Lots of blood pops. There's also a seven berry tea that's brewed in Knockturn Alley for vampires who are either being weened off blood or simply don't wish to drink it. Also, no garlic, while it doesn't kill vampires it does cause them to hallucinate their worst memories on replay, and you have a whole hell of a lot of those. Silver is actually a powerful thing for vampires, so feel free to wear a lot of that. You will have enhanced senses, super strength, super speed, and astounding agility and grace. To kill a vampire you must drain all of it's blood until it it turns to dust. The only other thing that can kill a vampire is if they are torn to pieces and burned and then the ashes are scattered over open water, but otherwise they're invincible. If that happens to you, you can choose again whether you'd like to continue on in your life, move to another realm, or have a redo right back at where you started."

"Cool." Harry shrugs.

"The hallows will be waiting for you on your bed, all of them, and there will be copies where the old ones were. Dumbledore's wand will loose it's power, and the stone in the gaunt ring will become just a simple stone. Your cloaks copy will simply vanish to the afterlife with me. The hallows will redesign themselves to your liking, and you will no longer be able to use your Holly wand. The hallows will hide for you so no one will be able to tell what they truly are, and no one can steal them from you." Death shrugs as well. "That's it, so would you like to be returned to seven minutes after midnight the day of your birthday, or seven minutes before midnight of August first? Those are the two best times to send you at."

"Seven before Lughnasadh." Harry smiles as Death opens the purple flaming portal. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Of course master." Death bows. "Bye Darling."

"Later dearie." Harry jumps though the portal.

* * *

**The Year 1994**

Being sent back fifteen years into the past is disorienting, and it takes a few minutes for Harry's brain and magic to adjust to the sudden change.

Harry looks around at his small bedroom in no little amount of disgust. He was such a slop back when he was actually fourteen, not caring about his small amount of possessions. The hallows are sitting on his bed as promised, and harry crosses over. He picks up the stone and focuses on an image, and when he's done he's holding a silver chained necklace with a dark burgundy pillar crystal hanging down. It looks like a scrying crystal, but darker and a bit more menacing. A silver pendant sits behind it in the triangle-circle-line design of the hallows and the Peverell crest.

Now that he knows he can actually change them, he picks up the wand. He waves it, and all of his school items are taken out from the cupboard and sitting neatly in his room. He picks up his wand, puts it in the hand with the elder wand, and concentrates. He squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them he feels that the wand is much more powerful. A head full of new necromancy knowledge and death spells kind of makes it easier to tell how to make the hallows better and stronger. The wand has been split into two twin wands, much like duelers back in the founder's era often had crafted for them. Before he stopped using wands altogether he often used both the elder and his holly wands at the same time during the Hunts. Blended wands are not something you'll find in abundance, and he knows when Ollivander does the wand ceremony it will say he made them. The wands are elder, eucalyptus, and holly twisted together in a lovely design, each at exactly thirteen inches, with a blended core of phoenix feather, basilisk venom, and banshee hair. It isn't really banshee hair, but thestral hair, but it will read as banshee on the tests. He can hear Death chuckling in the netherworld.

The cloak he spells to look more like a cloak and less like a blanket, with a wide hood and buttons down the front. When he wears it he shall be just as invisible as before, and even more so. If he wants to wear it but not turn invisible, then the cloak will look like a regular cloak with black on the outside and silver-grey on the inside.

The clock strikes midnight and Harry grins. He doesn't want to see how he looks until he ages himself up to sixteen, and he knows Death will send his "sire" to bite him tonight after the ritual is done. Harry pulls on his cloak, apparates into Knocturn Alley with the money he brought home from Hogwarts the year previous, and goes to get what he needs for the ritual.

\--

When Harry gets back from his shopping spree it's already sundown, and he knows he needs to work fast just so that Death doesn't spite him and send the vampire to immortalize him as a fourteen year old. He spent quite a lot more time there than he should have, but he remembered that in this time the creature laws are still fucked up. Harry still isn't sure exactly how he managed to get the goblins to give a fourteen year old his lordship and emancipation papers in an hour, considering it was supposed to take days. Harry left both Diagon and Knocturn with a new wardrobe, a new trunk, and every last item in all the Peverell, Potter, Evans, and Black accounts, sans the only account Sirius is allowed access to despite his supposed guilt. he feels kind of bad for stopping his business with the goblins, but vampires are not allowed accounts of their own.

And man is he loaded. Between the properties, which he is allowed to keep at least, the money, and the investments he still has rights to, Harry could live like a particularly spoiled king for the rest of his life and still not make a sizable dent in all he owns.

He doesn't let the Dursley's get a word in edgewise before he casts the imperious on them, instructing them to set up his ritual space as he goes and snags his four other sacrifices. He chooses Mrs. Figg, because she was horrible to him and was fine with just reporting his childhood abuse to the order and not the police, A muggle rapist he ran into who thought he would be fun, a random vampire who also thought he'd be some fun, and the neighbor to the Dursley's left because she saw him dragging the rapist inside.

He uses his magic to instruct them to kneel naked on the the circle, evenly spaced apart, holding each others hands. Harry giddily slices open each of their chests, pulling out their hearts, kept beating by his magic. He places each heart in a silver bowl, then magics the rest of their blood into the cauldron in the center of the room, along with their bones and eyes. He shoves their bodies backwards through a portal to the afterlife. He adds unicorn blood, willingly given, into the cauldron, and watches as it turns silvery pink in color. He grabs the seven hearts and drops them in, still beating despite the deaths of their owners, and he watches as each sinks to the bottom. He adds nightshade petals, hemlock tea, Dementor blood, and a single Thestral wing bone to the potion, which bubbles and boils and broths. When the smoke clears up, there is a single dark red square, about an inch on each side and about a fourth inch tall, with a silver skeleton etched on the top.

Harry picks it up and sniffs it. It smells like dark chocolate and blood. Harry eyes the square for a few more seconds, then shrugs and puts it in his mouth. It tastes like absinth, something he only had once, and dark bitter unsweetened chocolate. Instantly it starts working, because it suddenly feels like he's on fire, and then like he's being drowned in an ice bath, and then it's done and he's left with the pins and needles feeling of his limbs being asleep, and the desperate need for air.

Death clearly doesn't care that he's only just finished the ritual, because as soon as Harry can properly breath again there are sharp fangs in his neck. He screams, struggles against the stronger creature, and inwardly curses death for being an asshole. The vampire lets him go and he slides to the ground, weak and breathless. He feels more than sees him lean over to fill Harry's mouth with the blood of his wrist.

The blood fills his body with adrenaline and life, and Harry eagerly latches onto the wrist of his sire. "That's enough, pet." The vampire says, and Harry obediently lets go. Everything is so sharp, so clear, so wonderful. The vampire is explaining the benefits of being a creature of the night, but Harry isn't listening really. Death already gave him the knowledge he needs.

Harry gets right up into the vampires face, enjoying how he quiets down instantly, and then latches his newly sharp fangs onto the man's thorax. He screams, tries to get away, but Harry continues until his sire turns to dust in his hands. Harry smirks, and then there is a rush as all his abilities and knowledge are transferred to Harry as promised by Death. His sire, who's name was apparently Antonio Neros, was actually quite young, born only seven years before Tom Riddle was in Italy. His family immigrated illegally to America, and as he grew up he helped out a lot in his father's restaurant. He fought in world war two, died on the battlefield but was brought back when his commander turned him. He's spent every moment since then traveling around Italy. Harry knows more about Italy now than he knows about his own homeland.

Harry takes one last look around his current home, and then he summons all his belongings to the middle of the street. He shoves everything into his new trunk, almost calls Hedwig before he remembers that she's with the Weasleys, and then he apparates to his Sire's home in Italy. He has one of his own, the Summer Home in Venice, but his memories of Antonio Neros's life showed that the man was a thief and a collector. He has many priceless artifacts and a dragon's hoard of money beneath his home. Antonio was his sire, which means it is all rightfully his now that the man is dead.

He can't really start a war without a butt load of gold, now can he?


End file.
